Slicing through the waves until his head was a small, dark blob, he disappeared under the surface for an alarming and ridiculously show-offy stretch of time. Doused in seawater and glistening from head to toe, he came back out, emulating an iconic James Bond scene where Daniel Craig saunters out of the water in tight trunks—rugged and sun-soaked against the backdrop of sparkling water.
It was weird witnessing a hunk-in-trunks moment with Fia. She slid her sunglasses down her nose and observed him over the rim. Obviously, she hadn’t been listening to my inner dialogue when I said it’s best to ogle hot people frombehindthe shade of dark lenses.
“What’s he doing?” she asked.
Hmmm, maybe she really was observing and not ogling.
Alex sat cross-legged on the beach, half in the water, and half out. The waves lapped around him as he twisted and turned something in his hand.
We left the taverna and walked to the sandy shore of the harbor. Fia slipped out of her sandals and waded over to Alex. I stood by the pier, keeping an eye out for our pickup.
“Moti!” Fia waved, calling me over.
I stepped into the water gingerly. It came up to my calves—not enough to sweep me away, but people could drown in an inch of this shit, so it was a valiant move on my part. Holding up the hem of my dress, I walked to where Fia watched Alex with great interest.
“Look,” she said. “It’s a starfish.”
Alex was extricating a tiny, lobster-red starfish from the cords of a discarded fishing net. Its bumpy spines radiated from the center in perfect symmetry—a fiery star fallen from the heavens into Poseidon’s realm.
“Is it alive?” I asked. Starfish breathe through little tubes that run over their entire body. To survive, they need to be completely submerged in water.
“It’s hard to tell.” Alex untangled another arm from the netting. The pattern of sun-filtered waves danced on the back of his hands through the water. He kept the starfish under the surface and worked it gently through the knots. “Let’s see, shall we?” he said when it was finally free.
I held my breath as he rested the starfish on the seabed. Tips of broken shells peeked through the sand. The three of us peered over the motionless starfish as seaweed swirled around our legs.
Come on. Come on.
It was suddenly imperative the little starfish move. The whole day distilled down to that one moment and that one vibrant sea star in the water. Waves broke around us with lacey froth on the shore. A cloud drifted across the sky like the brilliant white sail of a ship.
The starfish moved. At first it looked like it was just being rocked by the waves. Then its arm extended, feeling the sand with the wiggly feet on its underside. It had thousands of soft, rippling tubes that moved with coordinated grace, gripping and releasing the sand, propelling the starfish forward in wavelike motions.
“Ha!” Fia high-fived Alex. He grinned like a proud daddy as his baby disappeared into the sea.
“Eddie will be here soon,” he said. “We should make our way to the pier.”
“Be there in a minute,” I said. The starfish was gone, but I stood rooted to the spot, not ready to leave.
As Fia and Alex walked to the meeting point, I dropped the hem of my dress and let it float around my knees. The water felt warm—tiny bubbles of foam breaking against my skin. The tiny sea star had jump-started something in me. Maybe I identified with it because starfish don’t swim either. And yet it had reached for the water. The sea was its home.
Oh, to be so sure of your place in the sun. Or the sea. Or the sky.
I turned as a kid shrieked in delight behind me. He had a spade and bucket in his hands. The waves splashed him, and he splashed back, throwing spades full of sand at them. His cap shadowed his face, baring just the tip of a sun-warmed nose and the curve of his smile.
I want to be like that, I thought.
Like him.
Like the starfish.
No worries, no fears.
I closed my eyes and breathed in the salty smell of the sea. The waves came and went, the sound pulsating to the rhythm of my breath. I rose over it—floating weightlessly, aimlessly—as gritty particles of sand washed away from my feet.
“I want to learn how to swim!” I yelled, and then laughed at the startled expression on the little boy’s face. “I want to learn how to swim forme.”
I ran past him, past Fia, past Alex, all the way back to the souvenir shop on the quay.
“Hi.” I was breathless as I held up my purchase for the cashier. The wet hem of my dress made little puddles on the floor. “I’d like to buy this swimsuit, please.”
